


The Words You Drown

by boomerbird10



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Fix It Fic, alternative season 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:01:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24314725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerbird10/pseuds/boomerbird10
Summary: She has to tell him. She has to. Somehow, though, staring at the little plus sign on the plastic stick she holds in her hand, Ziva can't.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 11
Kudos: 89





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an old project sitting in my WIP folder for a while and I decided to finish it this week! There will be three chapters in total.

"The words you drown leave a bitter taste inside your mouth / Whatever you have sheathed / Will throw itself against your teeth / Until you have the guts to let it out / But I'm not weak / My brain's a hurricane."

— ["Odyssey" by _The Accidentals_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajyOiaVsQSI)

* * *

She has to tell him. She has to.

Somehow, though, staring at the little plus sign on the plastic stick she holds in her hand, Ziva can't.

She paces the creaky old floors of the family farmhouse she's made her home in since returning to Israel, her mind working furiously. He'd want to know, wouldn't he? But he's afraid of children. It'd be different with his own kid, right? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe he'd feel obligated to be involved in her pregnancy and in the life of their child even if he didn't want to. She knows him so well by now, more than eight years after meeting him, but does she know him well _enough_ to read him on this?

She pulls her phone out of her pocket without stopping the movement of her feet; pacing is keeping her sane right now. She pulls up his contact information and focuses on his name on the small pixelated screen. She has to tell him, but how?

Never one to run away from her problems, she has barely procrastinated a day in her life. This should be no different, but somehow it is. So, for the first time since childhood, she puts off something that she's dreading.

She thinks it'll get easier with time. She'll come to terms with all of this and _then_ she'll focus on everything else, but before she knows it, she's entering her third trimester. Her hands rest almost permanently on her rounded abdomen and she talks to her little one all the time. Usually, it's in Hebrew, but often, it's in English; it occurs to her somewhere down the line that she may be subconsciously focusing on the fact that her baby is half Italian-American.

Every day, she looks at Tony's name in her phone. Every day, her thumb hovers over the little green phone symbol that will turn Tony's world upside down. Every day, she chickens out and doesn't do what she knows needs doing.

She eventually accepts that she just doesn't have the courage to make the call. This is a different kind of fear than anything she's ever experienced before; this isn't a battle than can be won with a SIG Sauer or a well-placed knife jab.

When she figures out that calling just isn't going to happen, she starts to feel calmer. It stops hanging over her head in such an ominous way. She still needs to tell Tony, but she doesn't feel so panicky about it. She finally decides that the only way to tell him is in person—and pressing the "pay now" button when booking a flight to Washington Dulles is less terrifying than pressing the call button on her cell phone.

Then she has two weeks to wait before leaving, and she uses those two weeks to pull herself together. She's still uncertain about returning to the United States, and she's still in the dark headspace she was when she and Tony said goodbye nearly seven months ago, but now she has no choice. She has to confront some of those demons because this isn't just about her anymore.

She packs in only a backpack; her trip is a week long. There's a part of her that desperately wants to throw away that return flight and simply move back home, but the rest of her knows that she stayed in Israel for a reason. It would be too easy to be sucked back into the world of badges and guns if she planted herself back in Washington.

Preemptive nostalgia leads her to take one long walk around the farmhouse and the property it sits on before leaving for the airport; this place has been good to her in the past few months, and she's going to miss it while she's gone. The solitude she's had here has been soothing, healing. Maybe someday, in the dark hours of the morning with her tiny new baby snoozing at her breast, those achy cracks in her tired heart will be mended the rest of the way. She can only hope.

She spends the whole first flight looking out the window, though there's little to see but clouds and blinding sunlight. Her mind keeps returning to the distance she's crossing, each second bringing her closer to the only family she has left.

Her plane touches down in New York for a few hours' layover, and while she stands in line at customs and immigration, she finds herself crying slow, gentle tears. It's cathartic, much to her surprise, and it leaves her feeling more at peace about what she's about to do.

The second flight from JFK to IAD is mercifully short, and around 10:30 in the morning, she steps off of a plane into one of her favorite cities for the first time in nearly a year. No matter how much this trip has the potential to hurt, it's good to be home.

Wearing the bulkiest coat she owns against early April's still low temperatures, she takes a cab straight to the navy yard. The guards who admit her are the same ones who worked here when she resigned from NCIS so many months ago; they greet her by name, and she smiles.

She stands in front of the NCIS building for a long time without going in, though, her nerves returning almost in full force. The people that she loves are inside, she reminds herself, and she can't deny the pull that eventually leads her to walk through the front doors.

She goes through security again before being admitted upstairs, and then before she knows it, she's standing in the bullpen with its silly orange walls. She's expecting some surprise at her arrival, but the row of desks that houses Team Gibbs is… empty. There's no one there. She makes her way slowly up and down the aisle, running an index finger lovingly along the edge of each workspace; the warmth she feels bubbling up in her chest is undeniable. She likes being back here whether she _wants_ to like it or not.

She eventually settles into the chair behind her old desk. There are photos and other personal items pinned up here and there, making it very clear that this desk has passed into new hands in her absence. She's hardly surprised, but it sends a pang through her. Every time she has pictured this space since she left, it's been frozen as it was when she last sat here… but time, of course, has moved on without her.

She hears footsteps—her reflexes and senses, at least, are still functional—and she stiffens slightly, ready to face the music. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately), it's not who she's expecting.

"Um… can I… help you?" a woman's voice says, slightly awkward.

Ziva looks up into the face of a thin blonde woman who's looking at her with a mild amount of veiled suspicion. She smiles at the agent in front of the desk, trying to put her at ease. It seems pretty clear that the blonde is the owner of the desk where Ziva now sits.

"Perhaps," the Israeli concedes. "Am I at your desk?"

"You are," the other woman confirms, tilting her head slightly to one side. "Are you here to see someone? I'm sure I could find them for you."

"I am, actually. I am waiting for Team Gibbs." Saying the slightly ridiculous teasing name brings a more genuine smile to Ziva's lips, and she gets to her feet after only a minor struggle with gravity.

The other woman's eyes fall to Ziva's swollen belly, and her eyes widen. "Please, sit! Seriously, you're fine where you are."

Ziva chuckles, but she hesitates. "I do not wish to displace you."

"You're not. I was just dropping some things off at my desk before going down to—well, another part of the building, anyway."

"If you are sure, then…" Ziva sinks back into the chair gratefully. Pregnancy is hard on her body, she's finding; she's used to being very fit, but now even standing exhausts her. "Thank you."

"Of course." The woman eyes Ziva speculatively, and Ziva knows what's coming. She didn't miss the way the blonde's expression changed subtly as she took in Ziva's speech patterns a moment ago. "What did you say your name is?"

"I did not say, but I suppose I can do so now. My name is Ziva David."

Though Ziva is clearly only confirming what the woman is thinking, the agent's face still goes through a visible range of emotions and thoughts; she has a very expressive face, Ziva thinks with some amusement. "Oh my god, it's really you! You're _Ziva!_ I'm Ellie, um, Ellie Bishop. It's so nice to finally meet you! I've heard so much."

Ellie's openness makes Ziva grin, and she extends a hand. Ellie shakes it. "No, it is my pleasure," Ziva corrects. "I cannot say I have heard about you before, but you must be the one who has kept the team safe in my absence. For that, I cannot thank you enough."

Ellie grins back. "They don't make it easy," she says, her voice lightly teasing, and Ziva laughs in solidarity—she remembers it all so well. "So who are you here to see…?"

"I wish to see everyone here, but… it is Tony that I must speak with first."

Ellie nods, wisely choosing not to ask why. "Tony and Gibbs are talking to a victim's family right now—we got a new case a few hours ago. They should be back soon."

"And where is McGee?"

"Down in Abby's lab, I think. That's where I was headed after dropping off these case files." As evidence, Ellie holds up the brown folders tucked under her left arm before dropping them awkwardly on the desk near Ziva's elbow.

"Please, do not let me keep you," Ziva says, gesturing lightly toward the elevator.

"Alright," Ellie agrees with a fair amount of reluctance; she's very curious about the woman who sat at this desk before her, and she'd love to stay for a while and pick Ziva's brain. The Israeli is clearly a little on edge, though, and Ellie would have to be blind not to notice the big pregnant belly. It's easy to guess what Ziva needs to talk to Tony about. "Are you going to be here for a while? If you are, and if there's enough of a lull for me to leave one of these days, I'd love to take you to lunch later."

"That would be lovely," Ziva says genuinely, touched; she likes her replacement already. "I will be in Washington for a week. I can certainly find time to sit down with you."

"Great!" Ellie says with a wide smile. "I'll see you later, then." She starts to walk away, but then she hesitates and turns back. "Um, should I tell McGee and Abby that you're up here?"

Ziva shakes her head. "No, it would be best if you did not. Secrets are hard to keep if they are told to Abby, and while I am not exactly trying to _hide_ the fact that I am here… well, I would rather my friends learn of my presence from me and not from someone else."

"Got it, secret's safe with me. Well, um, make yourself at home. I keep snacks in the bottom left drawer if you're hungry!"

Ziva laughs as Ellie walks away, and she relaxes some once she's alone again. This first NCIS interaction was not as emotionally charged as she knows some of her other reunions will be, and she finds herself being gently eased back into the world of human interaction. She's been alone almost exclusively for months now.

She doesn't have to wait long to see someone else, though. Shortly after Ellie's departure, she catches the sound of an elevator ding; almost immediately, the doors open and she hears Gibbs' and Tony's voices for the first time in way too long.

"—and I think the wife is hiding something, boss," Tony is saying.

"You _always_ think the wife is hiding something, DiNozzo," Gibbs replies. The voices are moving toward her, Gibbs in the lead. He turns down the aisle of desks and he makes eye contact with Ziva. His lips quirk up in his signature half-smile, but he doesn't comment—he just keeps walking. Ziva knows intuitively that he's giving her and Tony a moment of relative privacy.

"Okay, you might be right, but this time, I really mean it. Did you notice that she didn't seem upset at all that her husband was dead? Like, no tears _at all_. We might have a bit of a black widow on our hands." As Tony jabbers, he slings his backpack onto the floor and settles in behind his desk. Ziva's heart swoops; it's so damn good to see him! She has missed him very much.

It's only after a moment of no reply that Tony realizes Gibbs has walked away, and he shakes his head. "What do you think, Bish—" His words die in his throat as he looks over at the desk across from his own and sees a dark-haired woman instead of a blonde one. " _Ziva!_?"

Ziva would not be able to stop the grin that emerges on her face if she tried, and she certainly isn't trying. "If I was a shark, Tony, I would have bitten you before you ever noticed I was here."

He laughs at that, suddenly exuberant; all at once, the case is forgotten. "What are you _doing_ here?" He stands back up, clearly about to approach her; she tugs her puffy coat more tightly around her belly despite the fact that it's plenty warm inside. She just doesn't want him to figure this out before she has a chance to tell him.

"I am here to see you," she replies, some of the humor gone from her voice as a spike of anxiety flashes through her.

Tony smirks, going to stand in front of Bishop's desk; if he finds it strange that Ziva doesn't stand to greet him, he doesn't comment. "Of course you are," he says, preening. "I'm such a chick magnet that I've got girls coming all the way from the Middle East to—" He stops abruptly when Gibbs walks behind him, whacking him on the back of the head.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, DiNozzo. Good to see you, Ziver." Then Gibbs grabs something from his desk and is gone again, probably off to get more coffee.

Ziva laughs but sobers up quickly after. "We need to talk, Tony."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Can't say I love the sound of that. Everything okay?"

"It cannot be avoided," Ziva answers softly, sidestepping his question; the answer, of course, is subjective. She gets to her feet, keeping her jacket bunched around her middle and trying to hide her belly. She thinks she's successful, because she hasn't seen Tony's eyes pop out of his head yet. "Do you have time to take a walk with me?"

"I have work to do, but when has that ever stopped me?" Tony quips, self-deprecating. "Sure. Let's walk."

Ziva starts toward the elevator and she can feel Tony right behind her. Once they're in the car, he starts talking again. "So… what have you been up to the past…" he pauses, clearly adding up the time that's passed since they last saw one another. "Um, seven months? Eight?"

"I have primarily been settling into civilian life for the first time since childhood," she answers honestly. "And yourself?"

"Same old, same old," he answers with a shrug. "Not much ever changes around here, you know?"

Ziva nods. "Things look much the same as they did when I left."

Tony doesn't look straight at her, but she can feel his eyes on her face anyway. "Does this mean you're back?"

"No, Tony."

They're saved from examining that little Q&A too closely by the doors dinging open, and they step out together. "Anywhere in particular you'd like to walk?" Tony asks lightly.

"Let us go to the benches down by the river."

"Got it." He sets off slightly ahead of her, leading the way; it seems he's lost the ability to make small talk with her, just as she has with him.

When they reach the bench, they both sit silently for a minute or two, staring out at the water. When the silence becomes almost painful, Ziva breaks it. "Tony… there is something that I need to tell you."

"I gathered. Spit it out, won't you?" Despite his phrasing, he still doesn't look at her, sensing that whatever it is might be difficult to say and wanting to take the pressure off.

Ziva takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "I am pregnant."


	2. Chapter 2

_Ziva takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "I am pregnant."_

"Ha ha. What is it you _really_ want to say, Ziva?" Tony _does_ look at her then, mildly annoyed that she's teasing him like this after well over half a year of silence.

Ziva frowns. "I mean it. I am pregnant, Tony—please be serious."

"What do you mean, you're pregnant?"

She lets out an irritated bark of laughter. "I thought _I_ was the one to get confused by the English language. How many things could 'pregnant' mean?" With that, she tugs the sides of her jacket back, exposing her swollen abdomen.

Tony's expression doesn't change, but he stares. "Oh," he replies softly. For once, he seems almost speechless. "And it's…"

"Yours," Ziva confirms quickly.

"A baby. You're pregnant with a baby. My baby."

"Yes."

He shakes his head for a moment, almost as if he's trying to clear water from his ears. "How long have you known?"

Now it's Ziva's turn to look away uncomfortably. "Close to five months now," she admits shamefully. She should have told him sooner.

"Why are you just now telling me?" Tony demands quietly, starting to sound angry.

"I could not figure out how to do so earlier."

He echoes her earlier bitter laugh. "Don't give me that bull, Ziva. You speak how many languages? Nine? Yeah, I'm pretty sure you could have found the words in one of them."

She sighs. "I am sorry, Tony. I know I should have come to you months ago."

"You're damn right, you should have." Tony sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. "When are you due?"

"At the beginning of June."

"June…" Tony lets out a low whistle. "That's... soon."

"Yes, it is."

"Is it… do you know what it is?" he asks hesitantly, some of the aggravation draining from his voice as he starts to process the bomb she's just dropped.

"Do you mean to ask if I know the baby's gender?"

Tony nods.

"It is a girl." Ziva smiles a little as she says it.

Tony looks back down at her belly, clearly trying to picture the kid inside. "A girl. We're having a daughter… wow. Did you give her a name yet?"

Ziva bites her lips and nods. "I am sorry—I know it is a decision that parents should make together, but I… I plan to call her Tali, diminutive of Talia."

"After your sister?"

"Yes."

"That's a good name," Tony says softly, and when he reaches out half-hesitantly to grab her hand and squeeze it, Ziva feels the knot in her chest start to loosen. "Tali… and what about her last name?"

"I was thinking David-DiNozzo."

For the first time since the beginning of this difficult conversation, Tony smiles; it's small, but it's there. "Talia David-DiNozzo," he tries. "Tali David-DiNozzo. I like it."

"You do?"

Tony nods, but then the smile drops from his face again. "When are you going back to Israel?" She'd said a few minutes ago that she isn't back, and that takes on new weight now.

"In one week."

"What about me?"

Ziva shakes her head. "I do not know, Tony. I only knew that I must tell you about her. I do not know what comes next."

"Right." Tony doesn't exactly look happy about that, but he doesn't push her on it—not now. "Well, have you seen everyone else?"

Ziva shakes her head. "I met Ellie Bishop, but that is all."

Tony pushes off whatever angst her announcement brought in order to smile a little at her. "Okay. Let's get you inside and let you see everyone else, because I'm sure you miss them all. I know they've missed you."

"I have missed them. Everyone here," she adds. They both know that they're talking about themselves rather than their NCIS family, but neither acknowledges it out loud.

Tony nods. "We can talk later, alright?"

"Alright. Tony?"

"Mm?"

"I _am_ sorry," she promises, slightly mournful. She can't take all of those months back.

"I know you are." He wavers slightly before standing and pulling her into a gentle, heartfelt hug. "It's so good to see you."

She hugs him back, feeling herself tear up again. "It is wonderful to see you, too." She tucks her face into his shoulder for a long moment; leaving Tony behind has been one of the most difficult parts of the last year of her life, and knowing that she only has a short time to spend near him now makes it harder to let go of him.

Luckily, he doesn't seem to mind; she feels him press his lips into her hair.

It's still very chilly outside, though, so after a minute or two, they break apart and head inside. When they make it to the bullpen, they're unnoticed—Bishop and McGee are busy updating Gibbs on their case.

McGee presses the clicker and a military headshot comes on the screen. "Staff Sergeant James Fitzpatrick, 28, born and raised in Manassas."

The team goes through the case bit by bit, Ziva and Tony hanging back—Ziva because she doesn't want to interrupt and Tony because he went for a walk rather than researching like he was supposed to. Now, he's trying to hide the fact that he has nothing to add.

When they're done, Ziva feels it's the right time to announce herself. "That was not the most entertaining presentation I have ever seen," she loudly comments to Tony, letting an old humor seep into her voice. McGee and Bishop whip around, McGee's face the picture of surprise and Bishop's sporting a big smile. Gibbs just laughs.

"You're right," Tony agrees with a grin, playing along; for a moment, it's almost like no time has passed. "They could have at least thrown in some transition slides or something, you know? Some sound effects for pizzazz, maybe a little WordArt."

McGee completely ignores Tony in favor of giving Ziva a hug. She laughs and pats his back, feeling warm. "Ziva! What are you—wow! You're— _wow_!"

"I may be out of practice with English, but I believe the term you are looking for is 'pregnant'," Ziva answers him dryly.

McGee's eyes flit from her belly to Tony's face and back, clearly drawing conclusions. "Congratulations!" he says finally, laughing in disbelief.

"You can all catch up later," Gibbs interjects. "Right now, we have a killer to catch. Get to work!"

There's a chorus of "right, boss!" and "got it, boss!" as the three team members scurry to their desks. Ziva, watching, stands back a little, equal parts fond and mirthful. She's exceptionally glad that no one really seems to be holding last year's abrupt exit against her.

She thinks that, at least, _right_ up until the point when Gibbs passes her to go the elevator, nudging her on his way and saying "you're with me, Ziver."

Nervous, she follows him. It only occurs to her later that she still obeys his orders without question—he's the only authority figure in her life whose motivations she has never had much cause to doubt.

They get on the elevator, but to Ziva's surprise, Gibbs doesn't stop the car. Instead, they take a short walk outside to the nearby coffee cart. Gibbs already has a coffee in his hand, but he throws it back on the way and orders a fresh one from the barista running the stand. He has yet to say a word to Ziva since summoning her, but he does order her a chamomile tea without asking if she wants one, making her smile.

Drinks in hand, they wander to a nearby bench and sit; they sip in companionable silence for a while. It calms Ziva's nervousness, reminding her that Gibbs is the father that _every_ father should be—one who forgives, one who loves unconditionally. She _must_ have hurt him by disappearing with only a phone call to mark her exit, but the chamomile tea might just be his way of quietly reinforcing his continued affection for her.

Finally, Gibbs breaks the silence. "Really threw rule 12 out the window, didn't you?" he quips bearishly.

At that, Ziva bursts into laughter, not stopping until she has little tears leaking from the corners of her eyes; all at once, the stress of the last year seems to dissipate, at least for now. Gibbs laughs, too, and Ziva leans over until her head is lightly resting on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Gibbs," she answers, feeling lighter of soul than she has in a while.

"Hey, no need to break rule 6 while you're at it, Ziva," he gruffly replies, and she snorts, another true peal of laughter threatening.

"You should have known that partnering DiNozzo and I would lead to trouble," she tells him, lifting her head off his shoulder but nudging him with her elbow. "This one is on you, Gibbs."

He sighs deeply—Ziva knows it's just for show—and shakes his head. "I knew," he admits. " _This_ kind of trouble isn't quite what came to mind, though. Kinda thought you would kill each other." He gives her another little smile. "Whatcha got in there?" He gestures to her belly.

"A girl."

Gibbs' smile turns a little bittersweet. "Daughters are…" he trails off, shaking his head again, and doesn't finish the sentence; he gazes somewhere far ahead, and while Ziva first believes he's only thinking of Kelly, she realizes when he turns his gaze back on her that he's including her in that unfinished statement, too. Suddenly, she understands.

"Her name is Tali," she shares, almost shy. She wants his approval, even if she won't admit it.

"Kid's lucky to have you for a mom," is all Gibbs replies. Coming from him, though, that means so very much.

* * *

Ziva has a doctor friend who she started seeing after she came back from Somalia, full of traumatic injuries. Today is a little happier—her friend, Dr. Carter, was happy to fit her in between regular patients for a quick ultrasound. Ziva's had one recently and she's sure the baby is still fine, but she'd like for Tony to be able to attend a scan. The prospect seems to make him a little nervous when she brings it up to him, but he agrees readily enough.

They go the next morning; it's an office attached to the hospital where Tony's old flame Jeanne used to work. They walk in together, Tony picking Ziva up from her hotel on the way.

When they're called back, they do an awkward dance of trying to figure out if Tony should step out while Ziva changes into the little paper shirt or not. In the end, he just turns around—as if he hasn't already seen all of her—to give her privacy. Then he's waiting at her side, his heart racing until the doctor comes in.

A few greetings, and they get this show on the road.

Ziva jerks very slightly against the familiar but still unpleasant sensation of cold gel against her skin, but then her eyes—as well as Tony's and the doctor's—turn to the screen when the wand is applied. For a moment, the image is just staticky black space, but then… Tali appears.

" _Oh_ ," Tony murmurs behind Ziva, very quiet. She finds a hand slipping into her own, and she squeezes it, her eyes feeling a little watery.

"She's looking right on track for you to be around seven and a half months," Dr. Carter tells them with a smile, continuing her slow, almost panoramic sweep of the baby. "I'm not seeing anything that would concern me at this point."

That's not surprising news for Ziva, who has been getting regular scans for several months now, but she hears Tony breathe a sigh of relief. Suddenly, the image on the screen jerks several times in quick succession; Dr. Carter smiles and Ziva lets out a little chuckle. "What is it?" Tony demands, hating that he seems to be the only one who doesn't know what's going on. "What's she doing?"

"She has the hiccups, Dad," Dr. Carter replies.

Ziva tears her eyes away from the screen in time to see Tony silently mouthing the word "Dad", not seeming to notice Ziva watching him at all. "That's okay, right?" he asks uncertainly, watching the little rhythmic movements continue. "It's not… hurting her?"

"Totally normal," Dr. Carter confirms, mildly amused. "She's fine. It's just like having hiccups as an adult. She'll settle down in a minute."

"This happens often," Ziva shares, squeezing Tony's hand again. "She moves on purpose, too. She usually kicks at night, when I am trying to sleep."

"You can feel it?" Tony asks, amazed, but he almost immediately wrinkles his nose at Ziva when she laughs at him for asking. "Hey, don't make fun of me! I've never been all—ya know, up close and personal with a pregnant woman before. Why is it that she sometimes kicks and sometimes doesn't?"

"She sleeps like we do, Tony," Ziva reminds him. "And like us, she gets restless sometimes. Changing positions tends to calm her."

"Huh." Tony looks back at the screen again—he can't seem to look away for too long. "Is there anything else she likes?"

"Movies, television, music. Anything with voices. I believe she likes to be spoken to." Ziva pauses for a moment, wondering whether Tony has forgiven her enough yet to accept some teasing. "She really is a DiNozzo."

To her relief, he laughs. "She must be…" he muses. "Movies…"

"And talking," Ziva reminds him helpfully.

"Shut up," he retorts, but he's grinning.

* * *

Tony has to go on to work after the morning appointment, but that evening, they eat together at Gibbs' diner. (Ziva is craving fries heaped with mustard, something that makes Tony cringe.) Sitting across one another, both painfully conscious of each time their feet brush together underneath the small booth, they make small talk until Ziva is ready to say what's on her mind.

"Tony…" she starts eventually. "About Tali—you are free to be as involved or uninvolved as you would like. My father left everything to me when he died, so I have money, and… I can raise her alone, if you do not wish to be a part of her life."

"Is that really what you think I'd go for?" Tony challenges quietly, his expression unreadable. "You know, 'thanks for the heads up, see you and our kid never'?"

"No," Ziva answers honestly. Her earlier fears dissipated rapidly in the face of his reactions to this morning's sonogram. "I want you to have freedom to decide, however, no matter what your choice might be. You did not ask for this."

"Neither did you," he points out in reply.

"But you see very clearly what my choice was. It is your turn to choose."

Tony gives Ziva a look that's almost stern, but there's a hint of a smile underneath. "Takes two to tango," he reminds her. "I was a part of her conception, and I want to be a part of her life, too."

Ziva has so missed bantering with Tony that she can't stop herself from giving a suggestive tease in reply. "Yes…" she muses. "If I remember correctly, you were a very… enthusiastic part of her conception."

He laughs, shaking his head at her. "You weren't exactly complaining yourself, I think."

Suddenly, the air between them is charged as they both think back on the only night they've ever spent together and naked. Blushing slightly, Ziva tries to steer the conversation back to the topic they still need to discuss. "Be that as it may… we have logistical decisions to make, yes?"

Tony nods, contemplative. "Are you wanting to raise her in Israel?"

Ziva finds herself hesitating, which Tony catches on to. "You're not sure?" he guesses.

Finally, she shakes her head. "I had thought the answer was yes, but…"

"But what?" Tony prompts.

"That is what I thought when I believed I should not tell you about her."

"Glad you decided otherwise," he replies firmly.

"Are you really?" she prompts, pushing him to confront what he's feeling. "That is not completely what I expected, to be honest, Tony."

He shrugs a little, looking unusually serious as he thinks about it. "I'm afraid on some level, though I'm sure you've guessed that. And I can't guarantee that if this was presented to me as an option—say, things can stay the way they are, I can win the lottery and retire, or I can… start a family—can't say I would have chosen this before you… left. But now? Maybe when you stayed in Israel, I changed a little. I don't know."

Ziva appreciates his sincerity very much, and she feels a new flash of guilt at the decision she very nearly made to exclude him from this whole situation. She isn't sure how to really articulate this, though, so she asks him a question that she knows will challenge him. "What if I _do_ want to raise her in Israel? What would that mean for you?"

"I don't know," Tony says honestly. "Guess I'd have to think about it." He gives her a little half-sarcastic smile. "You ready to teach me Hebrew?"

Ziva laughs. "You might find it to be a difficult second language."

He snickers in reply, imagining it. "Hm. Maybe that wouldn't go so well. What do you think about raising her here?"

Again Ziva hesitates. "I am afraid of what being here will do to _me_ … but I cannot deny that I want her to have both parents around consistently during her childhood. Is Washington where you wish to be?"

"Again, I'm not sure. I want to be close to you two, I guess. And in the ideal world, I wouldn't have to give up working at NCIS… but I don't know much more than that."

Ziva nods contemplatively but doesn't comment; Tony once again catches on. "There are other jobs you could do here, you know. Or you could just… stay home and raise her, if you wanted to. You don't have to work with a gun to stay here."

"What might you suggest?" Ziva counters, thinking about it. She's been so insistent with herself on avoiding this possibility that she hasn't thought much about it.

Tony shrugs. "We could brainstorm it, but just off the top of my head… you'd be a kickass translator for just about any government agency, wouldn't you? Even NCIS—you don't have to shoot anyone. You know as well as I do how valuable it is to have someone around who speaks Arabic, Pashto, hell, French and Spanish and Russian and whatever else you speak. I don't even know the list, I guess."

Ziva chuckles. "I suppose it helps to have friends already working for government agencies."

Tony laughs, too. "I'll convince Vance to hire you in some capacity. Or Fornell, if you wanted to work in the FBI. Or I'm sure Gibbs has frenemies in pretty much any agency. We'd find you a job, Ziva. But you have to want to be here or it's pointless."

She nods, considering this. "I do not have much left in Israel," she confesses, a little softer. "I have Adam, and maybe Malachi, I suppose. But here… here there is family."

"Isn't that what you want for Tali?" The question isn't meant to convince; it's just pointing out something that Ziva herself is already thinking.

"She would have a better grandfather in Gibbs that she ever would have had in Eli—and she would have Ducky, too. And you, and McGee, and… she _would_ have a family here, would she not?"

Tony smiles, unusually gentle. "She _does_ have a family here, just like you do. It doesn't matter where you are."


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the course of Ziva's visit, something seems to be… building. Everyone is happy for her and happy for Tony—they all say they're not surprised—but the question of _what now?_ sits unspoken in the back of each person's throat. Tony and Ziva hardly have any answers to give, and though they're both aware of the gossip going on all around them, there's little they can say… so they try their best to ignore it.

Instead, Tony tries to go about life as usual and Ziva attempts to make time for everyone she has missed in the last few months. In between, she shoves aside the tension she feels lurking between herself and Tony because they've decided so little in the way of logistics; she's not sure when that tension will reach a boiling point, but it will be soon, she's sure.

It's only a matter of time.

* * *

With a few days left of Ziva's trip, she meets Ellie for lunch like she promised earlier in the week.

She settles uncomfortably into a booth at a little cafe near the navy yard, rubbing her aching back. Her hotel room doesn't have the most comfortable bed she's ever slept in; though several of her NCIS friends offered to host her, appalled to know that she's staying alone when she could be catching up with family, she said no to them all, and now she's paying the price for her stubbornness.

Truth be told, while being back here and seeing her loved ones is undeniably sweet, the dark cloud that led her back to Israel in the first place is still hovering above her. She's not confident anymore on how to interact with the people who matter most, and, avoiding awkward moments, she holds onto the solitude of her hotel room as a safe place in case she needs to escape.

She's interrupted from her musings about it all by the arrival of Ellie Bishop, a sunny smile on her pretty face. "Hi, Ziva!" she chirps, sliding into the booth across from the former agent.

"Good afternoon, Ellie," Ziva greets; her smile is smaller than the blonde's, but it's no less warm.

"How are things going? Is it nice to be back?" Ellie wants to know. She picks up the menu in front of her and idly scans the first page, making her tone light as if she's not burning with curiosity.

Ziva catches on anyway, and she keeps the little smile on her face, shrugging. "It is… mixed, yes?"

"Now _that_ is something I understand," Ellie agrees softly.

They're interrupted briefly by a waitress who arrives to take their orders, and it gives Ziva a little time to think. By the time she's given her order—tea and toast and nutella and eggs, a particular craving today—she has settled on just how open she wants to be.

"I am sure you are curious," she starts after the waitress departs. "Do you have questions?"

It has been a long time since she's had many female friends, and this new agent comes across as entirely trustworthy. If nothing else, Ziva could use an impartial confidant.

"It doesn't bother you to talk about… everything?"

Ziva shrugs noncommittally. Some things still bother her, but she's trying to be better about not keeping everything to herself. She'll never heal if she doesn't process things.

"Alright," Ellie says, raising her eyebrows but not arguing. "I _do_ have questions, if you really don't mind."

"Fire ahead."

Ellie grins, suppressing the urge to correct Ziva's English—she's pretty sure the other woman meant 'fire _away_ '—and she nods. "So, you and Tony, were you always…?"

Ziva chuckles. "You are not the first person to ask, and the answer is… complicated. Tony and I have cared deeply about one another for many years now, and that is all I can say with certainty."

Ellie nods, accepting this and comparing it to her own experiences in seeing the team as it still grieved her predecessor. "Tony, he… he missed you a lot." She's uncertain whether she's betraying Tony by sharing, but she saw him in the weeks and months after Ziva's departure. She knows how much it hurt him—how much it probably still hurts him, though he's gotten better at hiding it.

"I know he did." Ziva's voice is soft, maybe a little apologetic. "He has been the hardest part of all of this."

"Are you going to… or is _he_ going to…?"

Despite the questions being incomplete, Ziva gets what Ellie is asking. "We have not figured it out yet," she admits. "When I return to Israel, Tony will prepare to take an extended trip to Tel Aviv, too. He will fly out shortly before my due date and stay with me for at least a few weeks after Tali's birth… at least until we make more permanent decisions."

The thought makes Ellie smile. "That's in, what… a month or two?"

"Six weeks, if my due date is accurate," Ziva confirms.

"He's going to make a good dad, isn't he?"

"The best."

Ellie considers the other woman, hesitating.

"What is it going to do to him when you leave again?"

Ziva shakes her head; that very question has been troubling her. "I do not know," she confesses.

* * *

Ziva is awoken shortly after two in the morning her last night in Washington by a knock on the door of her hotel room. Instantly alert and suspicious, she creeps out of bed—a knife held loosely at her side—and peers through the peephole in the door. The knocker is Tony, standing out in the hall and looking kind of… wild.

Bewildered, Ziva opens the door. "Tony, what are you doing here?—it is very late, yes?"

"How's this going to work?" he asks, ignoring her question and brushing past her into the room without waiting to be admitted.

"I already said that I do not—"

"I know, I _know_ , but I can't stop thinking about it. Should I move to Israel? Should I quit my job? I mean, I've got a kid coming. I've got a kid coming in _six weeks_. I'm going to be so bad at this! There's a lot to—"

"Slow down," Ziva interrupts gently, getting over her mild surprise and closing the door. She gestures to the bed, trying to get him to sit, but he seems to have worked himself up... he completely ignores her; instead of sitting, he starts to pace.

The boiling point has been reached, apparently.

"There's no time to slow down, Ziva!" Tony informs her, shoving a hand through his hair as his feet wear a hole in the carpet. "I don't know the first thing about babies. I have so much to learn. How do you change a diaper? How much do they eat? How often do they eat? How do you know what they want if all they can do is cry to tell you—"

Seeing that the gentle approach will not work for now, Ziva interrupts again, this time by standing directly in Tony's path and placing her hands firmly on her shoulders. "Stop walking and stop talking," she commands authoritatively.

Maybe remembering that he's talking to a real human and not to himself, Tony does stop, and something in him seems to relax a smidge when he meets Ziva's steady gaze. "Now that I have your attention," she starts, a smile appearing on her face that's a touch too amused for Tony's liking, "I have some things to say. Sit first, however. Please."

This time, he _does_ sit, perching on the edge of the bed, and Ziva sits beside him. She's had some of the same fears about herself. "You are not the first new parent to feel unprepared," she promises her old partner kindly, empathetic, "and you will not be the last. Do you want to know what I think?"

Tony considers her for a moment and then nods.

"I think that you will be a wonderful father. The fact that you are worrying so much… well, that only means you care, and caring is the most important thing you can do." They both know that her own father didn't care nearly as much as he should have, the repercussions of which they're still dealing with to this day. "You are right to feel a little anxious—it is a big responsibility that we are taking on—but I am not at all worried about your ability to parent."

"You're not?"

Ziva finds herself growing tender, believing her own words even more as she speaks them aloud. "If I could choose anyone in the world to be Tali's second parent, it would be you."

A bit of a smile turns up the corners of Tony's lips, something like budding pride and maybe hope growing in his expression. Ziva can see at once that her confidence in him is precisely what he needed—as much as he may put on an arrogant front about most things, _this_ is something he can't fake. "You mean that?"

"More than you will ever understand, I do."

She thinks back to the years they've known one another—how many times has he rushed selflessly to her aid without a thought to the consequences? How many times has he stood up for her, believed in her, staunchly disagreed with anyone who questioned her? How many times has he challenged her when she was bullheaded, how many times has he pushed her to be a better version of herself?

It would be impossible to add up, but the math is clear: Tony DiNozzo is a man capable of great love and loyalty, and there's not a doubt in Ziva's mind that he will adore and protect their daughter with every bit of strength he possesses. The rest is just… details.

"Thanks, Ziva." Tony pauses and then takes Ziva's hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing.

She squeezes back and—after a slight hesitation of her own—she leans in to kiss his cheek. He smiles at her, and his expression becomes a little sheepish. "I still don't know how to change a diaper, though," he admits.

Ziva can't help it—she giggles. "I can teach you," she promises.

* * *

Half an hour later, they're at the nearest 24-hour Walmart, slap-happy with sleeplessness as they roam the aisles looking for something.

"What are we here for?" Tony asks for the third time, greatly amused by the single-minded way Ziva is searching.

"You will understand in a moment," she dismisses, perusing the toy section.

"I thought you were going to teach me to change a diaper."

"I am."

"I know you've been out of the country a while, Ziva, but kidnapping is still frowned upon."

"Hush, Tony."

"Hushing."

Less than a minute later, she's handing him a Cabbage Patch doll. "Hold this," she says imperiously.

"Why?"

"Because I said so." Then she's marching off again—waddling, really, though Tony knows better than to say that word out loud.

"Is that your mom voice?" Tony wonders aloud, trailing after her.

"Maybe." That makes her grin.

Tony finally understands what Ziva is going for when they arrive at the baby section; they're going to buy diapers, and she's going to use the doll to teach him what to do with a real baby. When he figures it out, he laughs. "So…" he glances at the 'birth certificate' visible in the box, "Shelby Noelle is going to be a stand in for Tali?"

"That is the plan, yes."

"Innovative," Tony compliments, amused.

"I have been known to come up with good ideas every now and later." She grins back and ushers him to check out.

"Now and _then_."

* * *

As it turns out, changing diapers is a fairly straightforward process, and it only takes Tony a few tries to get it down once they start practicing back in Ziva's hotel room. Ziva does it once first and then stands over his shoulder, barking orders like a pregnant drill sergeant and making Tony laugh as he learns the proper way to do what he'll be doing regularly in a few short weeks.

Ziva watches his progress and gravitates closer once he's done. "See? Easy queasy."

"Easy _peasy_."

"Does it _matter?_ "

"Of course." Tony laughs and Ziva shakes her head.

"Easy peasy, then. This hurdle was a small one, but you managed it with no issues, yes?"

"I guess that's true."

"You will handle the rest with just as much aplomb, I am sure of it."

Before Tony can respond to this, he catches sight of Ziva wincing and sees her hands moving to her abdomen. "What? What is it, what's wrong?"

She laughs, though the expression on her face is still slightly pained. "Tali kicked me. Of course, she kicks often, but this time, it was rather forceful."

Though he feels for Ziva, Tony has to grin. "She's strong. She's a _DiNozzo_."

"That she is, and a David, too," Ziva agrees, though she sounds a little put out about it, making Tony chuckle.

"What does it feel like?"

"Like…" Ziva screws up her face, trying to think of the right way to describe the sensation, but she comes up short. It's very late—or early, depending on how she looks at it. It's nearly five in the morning and she didn't get much sleep before he interrupted. "I cannot find the words to tell you. Here, you can feel."

"Wait, really?"

Ziva laughs and grabs his hand, using it to tug him closer so he can lay his palm flat against the left side of her belly, right where Tali is still kicking on and off. "I don't feel anything."

"That is because she is not moving. It is not constant. Give her a moment to decide to kick again, yes?"

They wait another few beats, but Tali has gone curiously still. Tony opens his mouth to ask a question, but Ziva cuts him off. "Remember what I said she likes?"

"Voices?"

"Precisely. Talk to her and she may very well move for you."

"What should I say?"

Ziva laughs. "I have never known you to struggle for words, Tony. Just say whatever comes to mind."

"Okay." Tony looks glances from Ziva's belly to her face with a little hesitation, but then he seems to decide something to himself and he nods resolutely. "Okay," he repeats. "Hi, Tali. This is your dad. I know we haven't, like, met or anything yet, but… I can't wait to get to know you. You're half me, which is _crazy_ —I'm afraid to see what you're going to inherit from my side of the family. I just know that given who your mother is, I'll have to be careful not to piss you off, little lady. You're going to be a force to be reckoned with."

Ziva's chin starts to tremble—for some reason, hearing Tony talk to their baby girl is giving her a surge of emotions that she wasn't expecting. It's going to be so damn hard to leave him again.

Fortunately, Tali seems moved by his words as well, because as he finishes, she gives one hard kick in the direction of Tony's hand. His eyes widen and he immediately looks up at Ziva, floored. "I felt it!" he cries, an expression of almost childlike excitement appearing on his face. "She kicked me!"

Ziva's answering laugh is shaky but quietly happy all the same. "That she did," she agrees warmly, looking down at her bump. "I think she may be saying that she is excited to know you, too." Then she looks back at Tony, and he's close to her and he's so clearly thrilled and he has her heart.

It's so natural to lean in and kiss him.

It's hesitant but sweet, and he kisses her back with exactly the same pressure. After a moment, he breaks away a little. "Is this a bad idea?" he asks.

"Maybe," Ziva concurs cautiously, but it's as if the last seven and a half months of longing have built something up inside of her; suddenly, she wants him very badly.

She can see in his eyes that he feels the same way. "Maybe not, though," he hazards.

"Maybe not."

Then he's the one kissing her and she's sighing into his lips and his hands are falling naturally to her sides and the bump between them is strange but more than good... It's _wonderful_. For the first time in many months, all Ziva feels is peace and desire.

That's true until Tony breaks the kiss and leaves her side, though, picking up the Cabbage Patch doll and leaving to put it in the bathroom. As he comes back, he very seriously says "Shelby Noelle does not get to watch."

Then all Ziva feels is peace and desire and the strong desire to laugh at the ridiculous man who still has her love after everything they've been through.

When they kiss for the third time tonight, she lets go of all her worries and starts unbuttoning her shirt.

* * *

The sense of deja vu when Tony takes Ziva to the airport a few short hours later is so strong, sudden, and painful that it takes Ziva's breath away. Her hands fall to her belly, and she drops her gaze to the ground in front of her, avoiding letting Tony see the way her eyes have filled with tears. She feels an exceedingly gentle hand land on top of hers, though, and she knows that he knows anyway.

Kindly, he doesn't say anything, instead simply leaning in to kiss her temple.

After a moment, Ziva's emotions settle out, and she takes a deep breath. "Thank you for, um…" her voice dies for a moment before she finds it again. "Thank you for driving me to the airport. Again."

She knows that she's not the only one remembering other airport scenes.

"Any time," Tony answers firmly, a promise in his voice—he absolutely means what he's saying, and it isn't limited to airport runs… whatever she needs, day or night, here or in Israel… he has her back.

It's something of a pity that though he has her heart, too, she's still getting on a plane to leave him yet again.

"I will see you in—"

"Six weeks, give or take," he finishes for her.

She nods, looks up at him and then away again. Saying goodbye feels daunting, especially after all the progress that they made last night. Tony seems to feel the same way, because he doesn't interrupt her thoughts with chattering like he might any other time.

"I will call you if anything happens," Ziva promises finally.

"You'd better call me regardless," Tony teases. "I let you go once, okay? You're not getting away from me that easily again."

"I will call often," Ziva corrects herself dutifully, drawn to smiling despite herself.

"Good. Well, you have a plane to catch, right?"

There's something in Tony's voice that Ziva can't quite decipher, but she can guess nonetheless—he's not happy that she's leaving. Frankly, she's not thrilled, either, but though her heart wants to stay, the darkness still swirling in the back of her mind reminds her to go. "I do," she agrees softly.

"Then you'd better get going."

"I should."

Still, neither of them moves for a long moment. Then, ever-so-gently, Tony catches Ziva's chin in one hand and brings her face up to meet his own, giving her a soft kiss. This is less fierce than their last kiss in Israel as _he_ left to get on a plane, less… questioning. He's accepting her departure, she realizes. He's giving her permission to go, letting her do what she needs to do.

Somehow, that breaks her heart more than when he begged her so many months ago to come home again.

"Bye, Ziva," Tony murmurs. His voice breaks a little, but there's no hesitation in his words. "See you soon."

"Bye, Tony."

Tony's other hand, still resting on Ziva's on her belly, gives one last caress and falls away. "Bye, Tali," he adds.

Ziva gives him a shaky smile, equal parts affectionate and pained, and turns to go before she can change her mind. It's now or never.

"One, two, three, four—"

She turns back, only a few steps away, to see Tony counting and grinning at her. "What are you doing?" she asks, frowning.

"Counting to a million, of course. Figured it would make the next six weeks pass quicker."

Her mind flashes back, just as she's sure Tony meant for it to. _Count to a million. I'm on my way._ It was texted to her right before he spent months tracking her down, following her all around the Middle East as she tried to resolve the pain and self-doubt that had plagued her for months.

"What am I doing?" she murmurs to herself, shaking her head.

"What was that?" Tony questions, looking mildly confused. It's only then that Ziva realizes she was speaking to herself both out loud and in Hebrew.

"I just said…" she pauses. "What am I doing?"

"Getting on a plane?"

"Leaving you."

A little surprise registers on Tony's face, afraid to hope. "Not so sure you want to go?"

"Tony," Ziva answers softly, "I have never been sure."

"But you—"

"I am sure of what I need, but I am not sure how to obtain it."

"What is it you need, then?"

"I need… peace. I need space to figure out what is happening in my head. I need to find a way of life for myself that does not involve taking the lives of others."

Tony opens his mouth to speak, but Ziva raises a hand to silence him. "Just… a moment, please, Tony," she requests quietly.

She knows what he wants to say—why can't she have those things here? He tried so hard back when Tali was conceived to convince her that she could, to convince her that no matter what, she was better off at home.

After a week here, she realizes quite suddenly that some of the tension she's been feeling is internal—it's a nagging sense that he might be right.

In many ways, Ziva is better here amongst those she loves; the solitude of the past months has been wonderful, and she has certainly made some steps in the right direction, but here… here, she would be pushed to grow. She'd be gently nagged into going to therapy, into talking it out, into not becoming a recluse who was fearful of the world around her.

Maybe Israel was where she needed to be then, but maybe Washington, D.C. is where she needs to be now.

And Tali?

Tali already seems to love the sound of her father's voice. She kicks more when he's around and talking than Ziva has known her to do for the rest of the pregnancy, and Ziva has no doubt that she'll be wrapped around his little finger as soon as she's born. Tali deserves to have her father around, even if Ziva is afraid of staying.

Honestly, what is she _doing_?

Before she can stop herself, she's pulling her flight ticket from her bag and tearing it into shreds.

"Ziva?"

"I am not going. I cannot go. I cannot leave you, not again."

The look on Tony's face says he's not sure he believes her, and without another word, she drops her bag carelessly to the ground and crosses the short distance between them. Then she's standing on her tiptoes and putting a hand on the back of his head to pull his face down toward hers, and she's kissing him.

She doesn't know how it'll work. She's not even sure it _will_ work. But one way or another…

They'll figure it out together.

_fin._


End file.
